


Check-Up

by AndeliaMaddock



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bondage, Choose Your Own Adventure, Other, Panic Attacks, doctor phobia, latent racism, mindfuckery, tags and ratings will update as story does, will likely turn to a ship but it doesnt have to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-30 17:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndeliaMaddock/pseuds/AndeliaMaddock
Summary: Scout stabs the meat with his fork and cuts through it easy as butter. It smells good, nice and steaky and grilled to perfection over charcoal bricks. It tastes good, tender with a bit of chew to it, enough to let the flavors really get him going. It feels good, it’s a meal that can take him away from the frustration of the day and make him feel a little bit more like he’s at home.“Check-ups are tomorrow. Do not make me hunt for you.” Medic speaks in that thick accent and the words might not be upsetting, if he didn’t put so much emphasis on 'hunt'.





	1. Fear of doctors.

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins on the premise: Scout is absolutely terrified of doctors and new to the team.
> 
> This story continues on one of the two prompts I will give at the bottom. 
> 
> [I will take votes in the TF2 channel at my discord server.](https://discord.gg/JYfyT9V) I will also accept votes in the comments section. I'll accept both until 7/12/2017.

 

Scout stabs the meat with his fork and cuts through it easy as butter. It smells good, nice and steaky and grilled to perfection over charcoal bricks. It tastes good, tender with a bit of chew to it, enough to let the flavors really get him going. It feels good, it’s a meal that can take him away from the frustration of the day and make him feel a little bit more like he’s at home.

“Check-ups are tomorrow. Do not make me hunt for you.” Medic speaks in that thick accent and the words might not be upsetting, if he didn’t put so much _emphasis_ on 'hunt'.

Maybe it’s just the accent that freaks him out. Engie says it’s not Doc’s fault he’s got German as a first language and that Scout needs to just put on his Big Boy Pants and deal with it, that people are different than he is. Engie says that Scout’s got a more brash and bold accent than he normally has to deal with, but he doesn’t go out of his way to mention it to Scout.

Scout forces a bite much bigger than he intended into his mouth and just chews chews chews until he can finally swallow. It hurts a bit, going down. He doesn’t say anything.

“Scout, cut the food better. If you choke, you may die.” Medic’s tone is too normal for what he’s saying.

He’s glad he already swallowed. He’s glad he has water and can drink it down in needy gulps, instead of saying what he wants to. The moment the glass is down, he opens his mouth wider, says what he knows he shouldn’t, “Ain’t it like, your job to keep us alive?” He waves his fork about then points it at the doctor.

Medic adjusts his glasses and leans in, until he holds his chin in hands and has his elbows on the table. He tilts his head down a bit, looks Scout in the eyes. “It is. While on the job.” Then he smiles, too wide. Way too wide.

The laugh after is like the few times he’s been on the battlefield with the guy. He thought it was just a battle thing, something the guy did to scare the enemy, even if it splashed back onto Medic’s own team a bit. But no, he’s doing it here and it seems like it’s just how this guy laughs and he really hates that.

He looks to Engie, who also is smirking and just eating the steak and potatoes like this is some normal-ass mealtime conversation and he’s just amused by it all.

It’s some big conspiracy and he’s surrounded by fucking lunatics.

Scout laughs too, sits back in the chair. “Yeah, alright.”

Check-ups tomorrow.

When he got this job, they hadn’t said that every single teammate was crazier than even his brothers could be, even when they got that glint in their eyes to cause a little carnage. No one mentioned, when he’d signed his name onto the dotted line, that he’d be surrounded by guys like almost twice his age who were loud and violent and kind of alright, Scout supposes.

He’d have signed even if someone had told him all that.

But seeing Medic there humming to himself, saying little words in German that Scout didn’t know that could mean anything, and cutting into the meat like it’s a patient or even an enemy…

Scout still would have signed on, but he’d have thought a bit harder about it.

It’s not like he’s afraid of anything, though. Especially not doctors and their tools.

\---~~~---

He hears Medic. Those boots squeak a bit against the tiles with each and every quick step down the hallway.

Scout likes to draw in utility closets because they feel cozy and let him just sit curled up in the corner and focus on the thing he’s making. In this case, it’s a tall Medic kicking over some buildings, and Scout’s running towards the foreground, bat in one hand, ball in the other.

After he finishes the picture and tears it out he realizes that he can’t hear Medic anymore.

“Scout. Are you in here?” Medic stands in front of the frosted glass. He raps his knuckles to the pane.

Ma hated it when he’d watch horror movies. Sure, he could get his ass kicked seven ways to Sunday dinner when everyone had to sit down and behave and eat like a nice good American family should, but horror movies? No, that shit would give him nightmares, just ask her.

This is that. He can see everything in slow motion, he can practically hear the hand touch the--he _can_ hear the hand touch the knob.

Medic turns it, gives it a little jiggle. “I do not like this.”

Yeah well fuck you, he doesn’t like it either. Scout is squeezed in between the metal utility shelf and all the many cleaning products, and the table. Medic can’t possibly see him.

“Come out. It is just check-up.”

He holds perfectly still. He hears the sigh and watches that shadow move past the milky window. Steps begin loud but peter off until they’re silent.

Then, so slow he’s not even sure he’s moving, he pulls on the light cord, plunges himself into darkness, and moves to leave the closet. Whatever way Medic went (right, right?), he’ll go the opposite.

Except, Medic didn’t go right. Medic was right there, with a smile slashed over his face like one of the serial killers in those movies. Ma was right.

Scout turns and runs. He pumps his legs until his heart feels like it’s going to give out and he’s more in shape than this, but he’s got that same near-debilitating fear like he did that first day on the battlefield. It clogs his lungs and makes him run and run, even through the choking pain.

Finally, he’s safe. He’s certain of this. Though, he’s like miles into the desert so ‘safe’ isn’t the right word. Still, he doesn’t have to do his check-up, and that’s the real point of this. Medic won’t run his old ass this far!

Sand and rocks crunch under his cleats and he sighs and slumps a bit on the long walk back. He’d run it, but he’s in literally zero rush to get back to the creep.

\---~~~---

Spy butters his bread and smirks up in that French way.

Scout just eats his plain because he doesn’t want to get yelled at for reaching across the table, and he doesn’t want to ask Spy for the butter the guy keeps hogging, and he doesn’t care.

“So, did you have a nice run?” Spy asks it in that same French way, complete with the smug smirk growing.

This is stupid. “Yeah, beat my last run by a whole few seconds.”

“Is that so? Do you always begin your runs from utility closets?” That accent is so fucking irritating and thick there, but Scout understands it and he knows everyone else does too.

Scout shrugs, and scoots his chair back a bit, “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“It is just an interesting place to begin a run.” Spy finishes with the butter finally, sets the knife down on the dish, and sits up straighter in his chair.

Everyone’s looking at him. Engie, Heavy, Sniper, Pyro, the others. Medic.

Scout jams his bread into his mouth and gets up. He doesn’t listen, he doesn’t hear. Someone says something, maybe several someones, but he just runs out.

He doesn’t choke on the bread until he’s all the way down the hall. Then he spits it out and carries it to his room where he tosses it into the waste bin, with all his crumpled up drawings.

Check-ups are over and he’s safe.

\---~~~---

He is _not_ safe. He hears Medic call out.

“Scout! Scout, it is alright. Come, it is check-up time. You cannot hide forever.” Boots step so softly along the tiles.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Scout curls up under the desk. Nope. He saw what Medic did with that other Scout. He’d seen some shit and been fine but this was a direct and forever nope. Spines were not supposed to go that way, even in battle.

“We are a team, Scout! You and I… _Bitte_ , come out.”

There was that extra word on top of the thick accent to remind him that this guy and him weren’t on the same page. Weren’t the same.

It’s not every accent. Heavy’s cool. He’s loud and real when he talks, and Scout likes that. He was friends with a few tough guys back home who talked kinda like Heavy.

It’s not even German, because he’s from a neighborhood where everyone speaks anything and it doesn’t really matter so long as they don’t start shit they can’t finish.

It’s weird, fighting old guys. It’s even more weird, having them kick his ass on occasion. Everything is weird, but that is one of the weirdest things and he can’t stand it. He was the youngest of them all, from home to here, and he’s _still_ getting his ass handed to him. He’s tough, this shouldn't happen!

Even the doctor could probably kick his ass. Not like, every time, but enough times that it shouldn't happen at all.

The door jiggles a bit.

Door’s locked and he knows he’s safe, but for how long?

All doctors are terrifying: from some dentist he went to once that drilled his back teeth, to his first and only pediatrician before he made his Ma too frustrated to take him back, to the hospital ones who poked and prodded him and scolded him for getting into fights.

This one is especially scary, especially with how he seems to know exactly where Scout is at all times. All day after work, the guy had gone looking for him.

His brothers would laugh at him, call him a wimp, a coward, a whiner.

It’s his brothers’ fault he’s in this stupid fucking place in the first place.

“Scout. You are ridiculous. Come out.”

Nope.

A piece of metal slides into metal. The knob shakes a bit, then turns. The door opens. Medic steps in.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck _fuck_. He bolts from under the desk and attempts to run past Medic.

Medic shuts the door, locks it behind him without even looking back. “No more fun. No more games.” His face says it more harshly than the voice grates out those words. Medic steps forward, almost silently. “Do not run, Scout.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Option 2 chosen, Medic does the literal opposite of helping Scout get over his phobia of doctors.

Of course, Scout runs. It’s not far he gets before he has to work with the lock, but--shitfuckno. A heavy gloved hand holds him by the shoulder and pushes him forward until his right cheek presses up to solid wood. “Get offa me!”

“Sorry. This was fun, but I am tired.” He lifts one hand up, held in his right hand. The middle finger flicks up, forces some of the whatever liquid out with a little tap. Then he plunges it into Scout’s neck. “You should feel it work--”

Scout slides down loosely against the door and his cheek burns a bit from the friction.

“See? Good! It works! Though, I hope I did not put too much sedative in again…”

Scout doesn’t hear more. Scout shuts his eyes and lets the end swallow him.

\---~~~---

This is even worse than respawn. At least with respawn, he goes from the shitty point of being dead to the slightly less shitty point of being alive and all he has to worry about for a while is some wooziness. Sometimes not even that happens and he’s just free to bolt out the sliding doors and go wreck the REDs.

Here, he feels like someone beat the shit out of his entire body and everything feels like in the bath when the water drains slowly down the pipes and leaves him heavier than ever. “Hey!”

“Mmm?” Medic turns to look at Scout. He adjusts his glasses and stands, pushes back from his messy desk. “Oh, good! You are awake. This is what I had hopes for.” Slow steps bring him right up next to Scout on the gurney. “Are you done with your silly games now?” There’s that smile.

There’s that laugh.

Scout struggles against the straps over his chest, arms, wrists, knees, and ankles. They’re heavy leather, he doesn’t stand a chance. “C’mon, Doc, you don’t have to do this.”

“Mmm? Really? And why is that?”

“I don’t need a check-up! I’m healthy, see!” He tenses his muscles, flexes his arms, tries to show off how solid he totally is.

“Mmm.” Medic rubs his chin with one hand and puts the other right there on Scout’s right arm. “These muscles are not as well-developed as those of our last Scout. Oh. Hahaha,” and he chuckles again, almost so light in how he does it. Medic waves the free hand in the air, “Forget I said anything, I forgot.”

“Last Scout?”

“Mmm? What about him?”

The guy was fucking with him. This was just… this was just what guys did with new guys, right? Sure, sure, this was like, a new kid would move into the neighborhood and him and his brothers would jump them, just to let them know who was in charge.

This was that and he didn’t like it, but he could work with this. He laughs, but it's tight and it whistles between his teeth. “C’mon, Doc. If you’re gonna give me a check-up, could at least loosen these straps, right?” It’s fine, this is fine, this is safe, he is safe.

“Mmm. Nein. I like the look, it reminds me of back in…” He waves the words away again, “Nevermind that.”

The guy’s definitely fucking with him. This has to be that. No doctor would sincerely be so horrible. Not even that fat dentist on Mahogany St. made his skin crawl this much. “Well, how’re you gonna check me up right if I’m tied down?”

“I have lots of practice dealing with bound men.” It’s so casual, and Medic pulls a metal rolling stand closer and lifts up a pair of shiny steel scissors. “Nude ones too. Speaking of.”

No no no. “C’mon Doc!”

“Well, will you stay here and behave?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mmm. No more running. I am not young enough for that play, these days. There is a reason I follow Heavy around everywhere. And not just because he has such beautiful muscles and skin and oh, those bones.” He seems to look forward, past Scout. A drifting dreamy smile spreads over his face. “Such good bones, Scout.”

The scissors are so close to Scout's face. He swallows and shifts his head to the right as much as he’s able.

“I’ve seen yours too, as you fade away. Such young, healthy, strong bones! I can tell you get enough calcium. You are so greedy with morning milk before battle, yes.” The metal opens with a schinkt and he sets his hand on Scout’s chest. He doesn’t even look at Scout, but above, at the walls. His eyes are blue and unfocused.

Scout can’t decide where to look. Scissors that threaten to close and slice him, or those bright eyes. He settles on the eyes, “Doc, just pull all those buckles and let me up, right? I’ll be the best patient you ever had!” He will definitely run. Immediately.

“The best one? Oh! That is a high bar you’ve set for yourself, are you certain you can reach it?”

“Sure thing, just try me, Doc. I’ll be so good, you’ll be like ‘vhat a shame I cannot keep him as nurse’.” He laughs, tries to keep it loose and joking like he would back home with the guys.

Medic’s blue eyes narrow and he presses the blade of the scissors against Scout’s shirt. It threatens. “Is this what you think I sound like?”

Oh god, right, not everyone teased everyone else's accents. Joe always had a real hate hard-on for him when he’d give his Irish accent a try. He’d almost lost a tooth once, after drinking a bunch and saying something to the guy.

“You should answer, if you wish to truly be my best patient.” With a heavy tone and enunciation, it was clear that for just a moment Medic was highly aware of how he talked. He wanted every single word heard.

He swallowed. “No, no, of course not. You talk way better than that.”

“Oh, would it be a bad thing if I had an accent?” The scissors threatened, 'snip, snip,' they seemed to say.

Scout panted, “No, everyone’s got accents. I mean you, me, Engie, Spy…”

“This is true.” He lifts the scissors. “But is my accent so strong still?” And it was.

“No, no, it’s like, I can understand it about as good as you can me.”

That got a frown.

Scout frowned back. “I mean, you can understand me, right? It ain’t like I’m talkin’ another language or something.”

“You are though. Such fast words, like those fast strong legs of yours…”

He did not appreciate the way those scissors snipped at the air. He did not appreciate where those blue eyes focused, right on his legs.

“Doc, listen, wouldn’t it be better if you could see them like, entirely? Can’t do that if I’m strapped down. So, maybe cut the leather?”

“Cut the leather?” Medic smacked the scissors back onto the metal tray and a few tools and implements scattered around it. “And why would I ruin a perfectly good set of straps?”

“I don’t know, just, please Doc. Please, I am literally begging you. Just… undo the straps.” This man wasn’t fucking with him. No one, not even the Spy, could pretend to be this crazy without that being at least a little bit true.

He’s going to die. The entire team got through their check-ups just fine, but no, he’s going to die here. Goodbye Ma, goodbye everyone else. This is it, he’s checking out all because…

Two hands worked side by side on one strap after another. They started at the chest and worked down to the ankles. “In truth, the check-up is over. I did everything I needed to while you were asleep.”

Unconscious and asleep were not the same thing, but like hell is he getting into an argument over it. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. “You’re done?”

“Mmm, for now. Though, do you have any physical troubles at the moment?”

“Beside from those fuckin’ straps?”

“Yes, besides those.”

“Nope.”

“Very good! Then you’re free to go.”

He turned and bolted for the double doors.

“Wait!”

He doesn’t want to, no he doesn’t. Scout pressed his palms to the door, but he did as asked.

“You forgot your sucker!” Medic pulled a blue one from a jar on his desk. Beside the suckers jar was a glass container filled with some weird looking loopy organ.

Scout kept his face like he would at Thanksgiving when Aunt Trish came by with her five angry yapping little dogs. “Gee, thanks, Doc. You uh, shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, of course I should! You actually were as good as most of my patients, while you were asleep. That earns a reward.” He held the wrapped sucker next to Scout.

Scout turned and took it. “Y’know, I might not have been so afraid if you hadn’t chased me down and tied me up.” He tried immediately to suck the admission in but it was too late. Medic clearly already heard it all.

“Afraid? What is there to be afraid of?”

“G-guy’s who chase me?”

“If you do not want to be chased, why do you run?”

He blinked. He did not run, but he very carefully backed his steps up, and only turned to face where he was going when the double doors shut entirely and Medic was out of sight.

Then he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choices? Comment below or at my discord channel.
> 
> To the showers
> 
> To his bedroom
> 
> [I will take votes for the latest chapter in the TF2 channel at my discord server.](https://discord.gg/5ctd7mb)

**Author's Note:**

> Two options to continue:
> 
> Medic actually tries to help Scout get over his phobia of doctors.
> 
> Medic does the literal opposite of helping Scout get over his phobia of doctors.
> 
> \--
> 
> [I will take votes in the TF2 channel at my discord server.](https://discord.gg/5ctd7mb) I will also accept votes in the comments section. I'll accept both until 7/12/2017.


End file.
